


Countdown

by grandfatherclock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Jester and Caleb count down to New Year's.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> This hardly counts for "Dressed Up" but I wrote a drabble so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

Jester’s face is coated in glitter.

New Year’s Eve is always dramatic for the Lavorres, and this year they do not disappoint. The entire Chateau is iridescent with colours, light refracting against multi-coloured crystals and washing the walls and people’s shoulders in a lovely fantasia of hues. Silver coats her eyelids and cheeks and lips, also smearing her dress, and Caleb feels his breath caught in his throat as she swirls by herself, dancing in the middle of the crowded floor. Confetti is bunched in her hands and she throws it around her, laughing as the pieces of red tissue paper flutter with the cool breeze.

He should go outside.

Caleb walks forward, the heels of his shoes clicking against the floor. He wonders if in the flashes of twinkling chandelier light his blush is as obvious as it feels.

* * *

Caleb’s wearing the loveliest coat, is the thing.

He should always wear clothes custom-made for his shoulders, the dip of his waist, in Jester’s humble opinion, but _shit_ , he looks so _good_ right now. His buttons shine gold and she shoots him a smile as he slowly, finally, wades into the mess of people. The red confetti reminded her of his hair, it’s why she chose it, and she watches his strands shine bright where they’re loose around his bewitching expression. His pale blue eyes reflect the whirlwind of pinks, of purples, and Jester should keep her cool for once, she really should.

She tosses the confetti right over him as he comes close, tugging away his attention from any of the gorgeous strangers around them. _Well_ —he was already looking at her. But she just wanted to make _sure_.

* * *

“TEN,” the crowd cheers, the countdown to midnight already beginning.

_Jester_ , Caleb laughs, shaking his head as he peers down at the confetti all over his coat. She went shopping with him, she nodded her head eagerly as he told the shopkeep what he wanted. The cheering is so loud that this feels like a dream, his voice is so faint against it.

* * *

“NINE!” The Mighty Nein, their friends, scream this much louder than the others. Yasha, flushing, is holding Beau, Veth standing on a table holding a shirt cannon and shooting shirts at people. One knocks into Fjord and he crashes into Caduceus.

Jester stares intently at Caleb’s lips. Ostensibly because they’re all too loud for her to hear the man right beside her, but also—she just likes his lips. Pink and perfect. She wonders if her lipstick would smear on him if they kissed.

If they kissed… Her cheeks darken.

* * *

“EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!” the crowd continues. It’s impossible to tell if time is going slower or faster, the numbers blur together.

Caleb watches Jester step closer, staring up at him as she falls into his space. His hands are reaching out to rest on her waist, as if she’s familiar, as if they fit into place like just the right puzzle pieces.

This kind of thinking is dangerous.

* * *

“ _FIVE.”_ There is an intensity to the joy that is impossible to deny.

Jester doesn’t want to.

_Kisses are for good luck_ , she says, hand reaching for Caleb’s collar to tug him down. Her lips are so close as she shouts into his ear. _Maybe?_ The word lilts into something so soft she fears—hopes?—that he might not have heard it.

* * *

“ _FOUR_.”

This isn’t a good idea. This is _dangerous_.

But the uncertainty that works itself in Jester’s face is so heartbreaking that Caleb feels something welling in his throat. His eyes turn wide and obvious as his blackened thumb rests under her chin and tilts her face up.

_Shut up,_ he thinks to his furiously whirring mind, _shut up, shut up,_ ** _shut up_** —

* * *

“ _THREE._ ”

Caleb’s face is so intent and Jester’s heart skips a beat. _Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh_ , she thinks, her eyes widening as she sees for the first time how red his face is. _Could he—he might—_

* * *

“ _TWO_.”

_Happy New Year’s, Jester Lavorre_.

* * *

“ _ONE_.”

Jester’s ears are ringing with all the dang _noise_ and she says into the thundering room, _Happy New Year’s…_ she begins.

The words trail as she feels chaste lips against her own.  Their friends are a mess of chaos and hope around them, and Jester just breathes against his mouth.

_Cayleb_ , she finishes, and leans in for another kiss.

She was right. Her lipstick smears all over him.


End file.
